16.

Cassie and Alexis sat in the conservatory drinking iced tea and reading the Sunday newspapers. Cassie wore a sheer cotton robe over her swimsuit. She had risen early and swum fifty laps. Then she sat in the steam room, visualizing women laden with Fenton’s bags of sourdough bread, cheese, and juicy green grapes.

Alexis had jogged back from a morning yogalates class and was massaging her thighs with warm jasmine oil. She wore a purple leotard and yellow leggings. Her hair was piled into a high ponytail and tied with a purple ribbon.

“When Carter returns I’m going to borrow his Kindle. We’re reading a dozen eucalyptus trees.” Alexis surveyed the pile of newspapers on the glass table.

“Aidan thinks reading should be laborious. One should work to turn the pages.” Cassie grabbed the Vows section of The New York Times. “Have you heard from Carter?”

“He sends texts but he uses words like ‘billabong’ and ‘Woolloomooloo.’ I keep having to stop and look them up in an Australian dictionary.” Alexis flipped through the Chronicle’s pink section. “When is Aidan coming home?”

“Thursday.” Cassie took a deep breath. “I reserved a night at the Mark Hopkins with a couples massage and dinner at Top of the Mark.”

“Going all out.” Alexis whistled. “He’ll be in a sexual haze for days.”

“I hope I can boost sales this week.” Cassie pushed the newspapers away. “I’ve been brainstorming all weekend and I haven’t come up with anything.”

“There’s nothing like good sex to clear the mind.” Alexis got up and stretched her legs. “I’m going to take Poodles to Golden Gate Park. He’s in love with a little papillon. Care to join us?”

Cassie shook her head. “I’m going to stay here and worry.”

*   *   *

Cassie sat in the conservatory after Alexis left. She hadn’t mentioned James’s kiss to Alexis. There had been so many things to talk about: the emporium, Aidan, Princess Giselle.

Cassie twisted her wedding ring on her finger, admiring the tiny diamond flanked by two small sapphires. She remembered when Aidan handed her the Fenton’s jewelry box and she opened it, startled by the ring’s delicate beauty.

“I’m not a big fan of Fenton’s but I want you to wear a ring that makes you happy.” Aidan pulled her close. They were sitting in the living room, listening to the Beatles and drinking an Oak Knoll Cabernet.

“It’s gorgeous.” Cassie slipped it on her finger. She had been expecting a plain band or an antique ring from a shop on Telegraph Avenue.

“You’re my angel.” Aidan pushed back her hair and kissed her on the mouth. He unbuttoned her shirt and placed his hand on her breast.

“Aidan, Isabel’s upstairs,” Cassie whispered. Isabel had been seven and often wandered downstairs to get a glass of water or complain she couldn’t sleep.

“You’re going to be Mrs. Blake soon.” He pushed his other hand down her pants, rubbing her underpants with his fingers.

“Aidan, stop,” she protested. She remembered hearing Isabel on the stairs, Aidan squeezing her hand like a co-conspirator. After Isabel went back to bed, Aidan led Cassie up to the bedroom and pulled her down on the king-sized bed.

He stripped off his shirt, peeled off his pants, and gently opened her legs. He hovered above her, stroking her with his fingers, covering her cheeks with kisses. When he finally entered her, his hands cradling her head, she thought she would never stop coming.

*   *   *

Cassie looked at her phone. It was almost noon and she had four missed texts. She scrolled through them, jumped up, and called Alexis.

“I just got a text from Aidan. He rescheduled his flight, and he’s arriving this evening.”

“I can’t hear you. There’s a rottweiler barking at Poodles,” Alexis yelled into the phone.

“Aidan will be here tonight. I’m not ready,” Cassie replied, walking into the marble bathroom.

“Of course you’re ready. Take a bubble bath, douse yourself in Obsession, and slip on a La Perla teddy.”

“We haven’t had sex in four months,” Cassie moaned. She studied herself in the mirror. Her hair was damp and her cheeks were flushed from the steam room.

“It’s like riding a bike,” Alexis replied. “I have to go. This rottweiler is trying to turn Poodles into lunch.”

*   *   *

Cassie stood at the arrival gate at San Francisco Airport clutching a box of Twizzlers. She wanted to give Aidan a present, something silly that showed she had been thinking of him. Aidan used to go through a whole box of Twizzlers grading papers. She had to buy them in bulk from Costco.

Cassie wore a floral cotton dress with white espadrilles. The fog had come in as she left the city, but she wanted to wear something springlike and sexy. She wanted to sit across from Aidan, sip iced coffee, and pretend last winter never happened.

She saw him walking down the ramp toward her. His skin was tan and he had a day’s stubble on his chin. He wore a white shirt and flared pants with a wide leather belt. He swung his leather jacket over his shoulder and carried a jar of green olives.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here,” Aidan said, burying his mouth in her hair.

“I got your text a few hours ago,” Cassie replied. She pressed her body against his, feeling his heart beating in his chest.

“I was tired of Athens.” He pulled away and took her hand. “Hot and noisy and no taxis. I brought you something.” He handed her the jar of olives. “I wanted to bring you Greek yogurt but customs took it away.”

“I brought you something too.” She blushed and handed him the box of Twizzlers.

“Don’t remind me of the papers I have to grade,” Aidan groaned. “I missed junk food and American coffee. European coffee is too strong. I couldn’t sleep and I had no one to talk to. I missed you, Cassie.”

“I missed you too.” Cassie held his hand tightly. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I can’t wait to put on a pair of thick socks and stand in our own kitchen. I walked for hours in Athens.” Aidan stood at the baggage claim. “You look beautiful. I’d fuck you right here if there wasn’t a couple of hundred people watching.”

“Aidan.” Cassie blushed. She kept her hand in his while they waited for the luggage. She leaned against him and smelled avocado shampoo and Old Spice aftershave.

“Let’s stop on the way home and pick up a couple of steaks. All I ate on the plane was cardboard pizza and shriveled grapes.” Aidan retrieved his bag. “Then we’re going to bed and I’ll have you for dessert.”

“Aidan,” Cassie hissed, “people can hear you.”

“In Italy, couples tell each other they want to make love all the time.” He stopped in front of the glass doors and touched her cheek. “Is it a crime to want to have sex with my wife?”

Cassie looked at his black eyes. She remembered his white teeth and the dimple on the side of his mouth. “It’s perfect.”

“Where did you park?” He bent down and kissed her on the lips. “I’m starving.”

*   *   *

“I have a surprise,” Cassie said as they drove through San Francisco. The fog swirled around them. Cassie turned on the headlights and rolled up the windows. “We’re not going straight home.”

“Cassie.” Aidan’s face turned hard and his lips formed a thin line. “You’re coming home with me.”

“Of course I am.” Cassie felt her cheeks flush. “I thought we could have a special night, without Isabel or laundry or dishes.”

“I’ve been traveling for two weeks.” Aidan’s voice was tight.

“It will be fun, I promise.” Cassie pulled into the driveway of the Mark Hopkins. Uniformed doormen stood at the ornate double doors. Women in long skirts hopped into taxis. Men in suits strolled into the lobby, carrying briefcases and newspapers.

“What are we doing here?” Aidan didn’t move.

“I wanted your homecoming to be special,” Cassie said, turning off the engine. “I booked a room for the night, with a couples massage and dinner at Top of the Mark.”

“The Mark Hopkins, Cassie? Did your mother pay for this?”

“I’m working.” Cassie’s voice trembled.

Aidan tapped his fingers on the dashboard. He finally looked at Cassie and smiled. “As long as I have you and a king-sized bed I don’t care where we are. But I’m not putting on a jacket and tie.”

“We could skip Top of the Mark and order room service,” Cassie volunteered.

“Deal.” Aidan nodded. “Lead the way.”

*   *   *

Cassie glanced around the hotel lobby at the giant potted palms and the deep red velvet sofas. She remembered coming to the Mark Hopkins as a child and filling her pockets with peppermints. Every New Year’s Eve her mother took her to Top of the Mark and she stood at the window, looking down at the twinkling lights of San Francisco. Sometimes even the fog lay beneath her, and she walked around the restaurant pretending she was in an airplane.

“Nothing changes,” Cassie said as they waited at the front desk. “I think the bellman has been here my whole life. The wallpaper is exactly the same.”

“Sometimes I forget I married a San Francisco heiress.” Aidan rested his elbows on the polished marble counter.

“You’ll love it.” Cassie blushed. “The rooms have wonderful views, you feel like you’re in an airplane.”

“I was in an airplane for twenty hours. I want to be in bed.”

“We’ll be in bed,” Cassie promised. “I’ll rub your back and massage your feet.”

“That sounds better.” Aidan put his hand on the small of her back. He rang the bell and tapped his fingers on the counter.

“Miss Fenton, lovely to see you.” The desk clerk approached them. “We have a gorgeous room on the eighteenth floor. Please sign here, and give your mother my best. She came in for tea last week, she’s never looked better.”

“I’ll tell her.” Cassie signed the slip and took the gold room key.

“Sean will show you to your room. Let me know if I can be of assistance.”

*   *   *

“Christ, Cassie. He called you Miss Fenton. I think we should stick to our side of the bay,” Aidan said when they were alone in the hotel room.

The bed was covered in a velvet bedspread and there were heavy gold curtains on the window. Cassie put her purse on the bedside table and looked down on the street. She watched cable cars glide down the hill like pieces in a toy train set.

“He’s known me since I was in the fifth grade.” Cassie had her back to Aidan. She suddenly felt this was a bad idea. They should be home eating soup and brussels sprouts from her garden.

“I’m being grumpy.” Aidan pulled her against his chest. “I’m just hungry.”

“I can order room service.”

“Tell them to bring up a couple of steaks and baked potatoes.” Aidan fingered the thin straps of her dress. “But have them deliver it in an hour. I want to savor you first.”

*   *   *

Cassie spent a long time in the bathroom brushing her hair at the mirror. She unzipped her dress and slipped on the silk robe hanging in the closet. When she walked into the bedroom, Aidan was already in bed, naked against the satin pillows.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, tugging the robe off her shoulder. He untied the belt and let the robe drop to the floor. She stood at the foot of the bed and he pressed his mouth against her nipples, rubbing her thighs with his free hand.

Suddenly Cassie froze. She closed her eyes and saw Molly Payne as clearly as if she was in the room. She let out a little gasp and Aidan pressed himself harder against her, clutching her buttocks with both hands.

Cassie squeezed her eyes tightly and Aidan’s hands moved over her body, touching all the familiar places. He put his hand between her legs, stroking her with his fingers, and she felt her knees buckle.

Aidan pulled her down on the bed and kissed her breasts. He kept his fingers between her thighs, rubbing her with his thumb until she thought she would explode. She gripped his shoulders and he climbed on top of her, gently opened her legs, and plunged himself inside her.

After he came, holding her fiercely and rocking back and forth, Cassie lay facedown on the pillow. Aidan sleepily draped his arm over her back and she felt a jolt like an electric current. She closed her eyes, wondering how anything could feel so good and how she had managed four months without it.

*   *   *

They were awakened by the buzz of the doorbell. Cassie slipped on her robe and opened the door. A uniformed bellboy rolled in a cart holding dinner plates covered with silver domes, a basket of bread rolls, and a bucket of cold champagne.

“I admit this was a good idea.” Aidan sat on the bed, cutting a thick slab of filet mignon.

“Being in bed with you is a good idea.” Cassie bit into a soft herb bread roll. She felt light and happy. It was dark outside and the only noise in the room was silverware scraping against porcelain plates. Aidan poured the champagne and she watched bubbles rise to the tops of the crystal flutes.

“Being anywhere with you is perfect.” Aidan cut his baked potato, covering each half with a pat of butter.

“Tell me about the conference,” Cassie said, taking a sip of her champagne.

“Florence is beautiful, I could spend days at the Palazzo Medici.” Aidan ate a large bite of steak. “Verona was charming: laundry hanging out of windows, tiny cars that looked like they belonged in a toy box.”

“You went to Verona?” Cassie asked.

“They arranged some day trips.” Aidan shrugged. “I was too lonely to enjoy them. Next year we will travel together: Florence, Rome, Venice. They loved the paper, Cassie. I’m going to expand it into a book.”

“That’s wonderful!” She smiled, then drained her glass. The bubbles seemed to sink straight to her toes.

“I’ll be very busy this summer. I’ll need your help editing and making sure Isabel stays out of trouble.”

“I’m not quitting Fenton’s,” Cassie replied, putting her champagne flute on the silver tray.

“The grand opening is over,” Aidan said quietly. He finished his steak and placed the fork on the plate. “Turn it over to your mother or Alexis or that architect.”

“The food emporium is mine, and it’s just getting on its feet.”

“Are you saying you’re going to spend twelve hours a day at Fenton’s?” Aidan demanded.

“I’ll be home by five o’clock.” Cassie tried to keep her voice even. She avoided Aidan’s eyes and looked at her plate. “I’ll edit at night.”

“Cassie.” Aidan moved the tray off the bed and took her hands. “Look at your mother. She didn’t remarry; she never had time for you. I’m trying to tell you I love you.”

“I love you.” Cassie gulped. “I can do both. It won’t interfere with our lives.”

“What about Isabel?”

“Alexis needs an assistant, Isabel would be perfect. She can drive in with me.” Cassie fiddled with her robe.

“It would be good for Isabel to have a real job.” Aidan nodded thoughtfully. “This can be a pivotal summer in a girl’s life. There are so many temptations, she needs something to focus on.”

“Isabel has a real fashion sense, I think she’d enjoy it,” Cassie agreed. “And Alexis is a drill sergeant, she’d work her hard.”

Aidan took a sip of champagne and kissed Cassie on the mouth. He untied her robe and slipped his hand between her thighs.

“I knew I married well.” He pulled her down on the bed. “Beautiful and smart. How did I get so lucky?”

*   *   *

Cassie heard her phone vibrate and stumbled into the bathroom to answer it.

“I have some exciting news,” Alexis announced.

“What time is it?” Cassie asked. She glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was tousled and her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were slightly swollen as if she’d been stung by a bee.

“It’s ten o’clock. I’ve been in the store for two hours. Where are you?”

“At the Mark Hopkins with Aidan. The curtains are so heavy I thought it was still nighttime.”

“You have that thick, sex-coated voice. I’m guessing it was a successful reunion?”

“Better than riding a bike.” Cassie giggled. “We had a wonderful dinner and drank a bottle of champagne. Aidan was so sweet, he really missed me.”

“Of course he missed you, you’re his angel. Princess Giselle rented the penthouse apartment at the St. Regis. Ten thousand feet of postmodern white furniture, your mother would love it.”

“That’s wonderful, but I should go. Aidan might wake up any minute.”

“That’s not the news,” Alexis interrupted. “I convinced her to have a house-warming dinner party, something intimate but with the crème of San Francisco society. She’s going to buy all the ingredients from Fenton’s.”

“That is exciting.” Cassie closed the bathroom door quietly.

“Vanessa and Billy already said yes. She invited Gina Pell and Allison Speer and the sweet young publisher of 7X7.”

“Alexis, that’s fantastic. It’ll be written up all over the city.”

“There’s one small thing.” Alexis hesitated. “Princess Giselle’s schedule is practically full. The only free night she has for the next few months is tonight.”

“She wants to have the dinner party tonight!” Cassie spluttered.

“We sent out evites last night. I’m sure everyone will say yes. Monday nights are deadly quiet. It’s such an amazing apartment—360 degrees of the city—it’s going to cement Giselle’s reputation.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I raved about what a food guru you are,” Alexis said guiltily. “Giselle wants you to pick out the ingredients.”

“I can’t leave Aidan alone in bed,” Cassie replied. “He’d never forgive me.”

“Grab a cab; you can be here in five minutes. Tell Aidan to catch up on CNN,” Alexis pleaded.

“Aidan is fast asleep. He has terrible jet lag.”

“Even better!” Alexis exclaimed. “When Carter has jet lag he sleeps for days. You could blast a foghorn in his ear and he’d never wake up. Aidan won’t know you’re gone.”

Cassie opened the bathroom door and looked at Aidan sleeping. He lay on his stomach, his arms splayed across the pillows, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“Maybe I could come for an hour,” Cassie hesitated.

“Giselle is all booked up after noon: hairdresser, massage, pedicure, and facial.”

Cassie glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. But I can’t be gone long. If Aidan wakes up I’m going to turn into a pumpkin.”

*   *   *

The taxi pulled in front of Fenton’s as Cassie tried to tame her hair into a ponytail. She had applied mascara and blush and rubbed Tiger lip balm on her mouth. She stepped off the escalator and found Alexis and Giselle sampling organic milk at the dairy counter.

“There you are.” Alexis kissed her on the cheek. “Giselle loves the organic milk, she says it tastes just like the milk she drank growing up in Liechtenstein. Giselle is in your hands. Remember we want the dinner to be over the top: caviar, oysters, escargot.”

Giselle followed Cassie like an obedient puppy. She accepted all of Cassie’s suggestions and filled the cart with snails, braised duck, black olives, herb cream cheese, and rounds of fresh baked bread. Every so often she stopped in front of a mirror to check her lipstick and finger the Bulgari diamond necklace around her neck.

Cassie forgot about Aidan asleep at the hotel and began to enjoy herself. She pictured Vanessa Getty and Jennifer Newsom exchanging chitchat over duck pâté and stone-ground wheat crackers. She imagined crystal salad bowls bursting with butter lettuce, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and shiitake mushrooms. She saw platters of crudités and pots of mustard and artichoke hummus. She pictured Gina Pell sipping a private label Cabernet and saying she must run home and blog about Fenton’s on Splendora.

“Oooh.” Alexis joined them at the cash register. “It looks like you’ve been busy. Let me snap a couple of photos of Giselle at the checkout.” She took her iPhone out of her purse. “Show those lovely white teeth. Don’t you love Giselle’s dress?” She turned to Cassie. “It’s from Zac Posen’s runway collection. Giselle wore it to the Fiske gallery opening and they’ve flown out of the store. I just had to reorder.”

Cassie watched the cashier ring up jars of caviar and bottles of port. Giselle handed him her black card and walked to the full-length mirror, making a full turn and admiring her red spandex minidress and five-inch Bottega Veneta wedges.

“Isn’t Giselle the best?” Alexis whispered. “She uses that AmEx like a library card. Darling”—she turned to Giselle—“I’ll have Kitty deliver these goodies to the apartment. I picked out a few hostess gowns for the dinner party. I want you to choose your favorite.”

Cassie watched them glide up the escalator and exhaled a sigh of relief. She walked over to the coffee bar to grab a quick espresso before she returned to the hotel. She pictured Aidan in bed, his thick chest covered with gray hair, and felt suddenly happy. It felt good to lie next to him, to laugh with him, to feel his arms around her.

Cassie saw the girl as she stirred a sugar cube in her coffee. She was standing at the top of the stairs, clutching a magazine. She had feathery blond hair and wore a red T-shirt. The girl saw Cassie and her eyes narrowed. She waved the magazine and descended the staircase toward her.

“Hi, do you remember me?” The girl stood so close Cassie could smell her spearmint chewing gum.

Cassie recognized the big brown eyes and the smattering of freckles on her cheeks. Her stomach lurched and she spilled coffee on the marble floor. “Molly Payne. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, God,” Molly’s voice wavered. “I knew it was you.” She opened the magazine. “My roommate gets San Francisco magazine and she showed me the article about the opening of the emporium. I’m such a bad person. I’m going straight to hell.” She started crying.

“Please, not in front of the customers.” Cassie pulled Molly’s sleeve and led her to a table by the bookshelf.

Molly sat down and put her elbows on the table. She flipped the pages and looked plaintively at Cassie. “I didn’t know Professor Blake was married. I knew he had a daughter, I saw pictures of her in his office, but I thought he was divorced. You have to believe me, I never would have done it if I knew he was married.” She wailed like a little girl caught pocketing a tube of lip gloss at a 7-Eleven.

“Aidan told me what happened.” Cassie took a deep breath.

“I saw your photo in the article,” Molly interrupted, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “‘Cassie Blake, heiress to Fenton’s and wife of ethics professor Aidan Blake.’” She jammed her finger at the page. “I’m worse than those reality stars who sleep with their cousins. I’ll never have a happy day in my life, I’m a terrible sinner.” She put her head on the table and sobbed uncontrollably.

“Molly.” Cassie waited until the sobs subsided into hiccups. “Aidan explained that afternoon. You’d been jilted; Aidan did something nice for you. It was a terrible thing to do, but it was one time. Aidan and I are okay now. He just returned from Greece and we had a wonderful reunion.”

Molly lifted her head and looked at Cassie as if she was speaking a foreign language. “It wasn’t one time, I loved him. I knew it was wrong, the whole student/professor thing. But he was so sexy. Sort of an older lion in the jungle, beating his chest and calling my name when he came.” Molly put her hand over her mouth and stared at Cassie, horrified. “Oh, God, I didn’t mean to say that. But I thought he loved me, until he left me with an unused plane ticket and took his TA to Italy instead of me.”

Cassie felt a chill pass through her body. Her hands froze and a sharp pain shot through her spine. She looked closely at Molly and tried to keep her voice steady. “What are you talking about?”

“He invited me to this conference in Italy. It sounded so romantic. Riding the gondola in Venice, visiting Verona. I got an evening job to pay for my ticket. I bought some really cute sandals.” Molly’s shoulders started shaking. “A week before the trip he told me he didn’t think it was a good idea. He said he’d be too distracted and everyone would know we were fucking. A couple of days ago I saw pictures of him and his TA on my roommate’s Facebook page. They were sharing tongues at a café in Florence. There were dozens of photos: dancing, canoodling, drinking ouzo in Athens. He took her to Athens!” Molly wept harder. “He said Athens was his great love and he wanted to take me there because I was so important to him.”

“Are you sure it was him?” Cassie asked. Her brain felt like a pinball machine. Her palms were sweating and she had trouble getting air into her lungs.

“Of course it was him.” Molly rolled her eyes. “I’d been screwing him for three months, I knew every inch of his body. Oh, God, I’m sorry, I keep forgetting whom I’m talking to. I’ve been crying to my roommate for two days. She went to high school with the TA. Her name is Penny; she’s really sweet, and has the prettiest blond hair, like Barbie. To give her credit she didn’t know anything about me.” Molly sighed. “Penny told my roommate she found a text from his wife, saying she couldn’t wait till he came home. And then yesterday I saw the picture of you in the newsletter and the whole thing fell together like the worst New York Times crossword puzzle. You’re his wife, you’re Cassie Blake, and I am the lowest form of human life.” Molly sobbed.

“What did Penny do?” Cassie felt as though she was being strangled, like a rope was pulling at her neck.

“She packed her bag and left in the middle of the night. Didn’t even leave a note. He was in for a bit of a surprise when he woke up.” Molly started to hiccup. “I never would have fucked him if I knew he was married. I know what it’s like to be cheated on. I’m so sorry.” Molly dissolved into tears, putting her head on the table and breathing in short gasps like a puppy.

Cassie sat perfectly still. If she moved she would shatter into a million pieces. She examined her diamond and sapphire wedding ring. She looked at her phone, thinking of the hot texts Aidan had sent her. She pictured Aidan burying his mouth in her hair, whispering that she was his angel.

“You’re just part of Aidan’s harem. I’m the fool. I’ve been his wife for a decade and I never suspected anything,” Cassie said finally, gripping the edge of the table.

“What are you going to do?” Molly asked tentatively.

“Aidan’s at the Mark Hopkins, sleeping off jet lag. I couldn’t go with him to Italy because I didn’t want to miss the grand opening.” Cassie glanced around the floor. “I booked a room to celebrate his return. We ate filet mignon and drank a bottle of champagne.”

“You’re so beautiful and sophisticated, how could he cheat on you?”

“I guess I’ll do what Penny did.” Cassie continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “I’ll just leave him there. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

“If I were you, I’d grab a fork and stab myself in the heart. Then I’d go to the hotel and slice him open like a can of tuna.”

“That wouldn’t solve anything,” Cassie replied weakly. “He admitted he slept with you once, but he said you seduced him and it would never happen again. I’ve been staying with my friend while I figured out if I could trust him. I finally decided I wanted to stay married, and I was going to move home. We had a really great night. He approved of me working at the emporium; I was even going to bring Isabel to work with me. That’s his daughter.”

“I’m so sorry,” Molly said feebly.

“It’s not your fault.” Cassie tried to smile. “It’s probably happened before, and it would keep happening. Like you said, some men need to be king of the jungle. I’m glad I didn’t wait another ten years to find out.”

“At least you have this.” Molly looked around the room. “It would be so cool to own your own store.”

“If I have this.” Cassie sighed. “We haven’t been open long but sales are terrible. If it doesn’t improve we may not make it.”

“But there are a ton of women shopping,” Molly objected. Since they’d been sitting the emporium had filled up. Dozens of women weaved through the aisles, handling peaches, tasting tangerines, nibbling apple slices.

“Sampling but not buying. I had my first big sale this morning, but it’s been pretty dismal.”

“Your produce is tastier than what they sell at the co-op.” Molly wiped her eyes. “If I had money I’d shop here all the time.”

“The grand opening was a huge success. Everyone raves about the design and the merchandise.” Cassie glanced around at the women browsing. “They just don’t make it to the checkout.”

“I guess if you wear Chanel dresses and Prada shoes you don’t want to be seen strolling Union Square with a grocery bag.”

“We designed special Fenton’s bags,” Cassie protested.

“But do they still look like shopping bags? My roommate’s mother only wears Christian Dior: those wool twinsets you see on old Alfred Hitchcock movies. They did look good on Grace Kelly, I guess anything looked good on Grace Kelly,” Molly mused. “And she positively reeks of perfume. I don’t know how my roommate could stand it; she must have walked around as a kid with a clothespin on her nose. Even her car reeks. She’s got a Jaguar with fancy leather seats; it’s like driving around in a living room. I can’t imagine her picking up a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread and carrying them to the car in a grocery bag. No offense, but the women who shop here are pretty uptight. They carry themselves as if they’ve got a ruler stuck up their ass.”

“You think they’re not buying groceries because of the shopping bag?”

“Sure,” Molly said confidently. “Think of that fancy box the pendant came in; red satin with ‘Fenton’s’ written in gold cursive. That’s why women shop here. I’ve seen them walk out weighed down with Fenton’s boxes. I’m sure the clothes and shoes are great, but it’s all about packaging. I learned that in freshman marketing. My parents wanted me to be a business major.” Molly sighed. “But I wanted to study ethics. Maybe you’ll give me a job behind the counter when I graduate. I’m really good with people and I love food. I promise I wouldn’t eat all the samples if I worked here.”

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea.” Cassie shook her head.

“You hate me, don’t you?” Molly hung her head. “I bet the sight of me makes you sick.”

“I just think you can do more with your degree,” Cassie replied diplomatically. “You’re very smart. I never thought the bags could affect sales.”

“Of course.” Molly smiled, relieved. “Now if you had Fenton’s bags like that”—Molly pointed at a woman walking toward them—“people would be lined up at the checkout.”

“I’m glad you’re still here.” Alexis swooped down on the table, clutching her Birkin. “Victoria Traina found out about Giselle’s dinner party and she wants to hold her own next Friday. She wants you to pick out the menu.” Alexis stopped awkwardly. “Isn’t this the girl who returned the pendant, who…”

“Molly, this is my friend Alexis. I think you two met. Molly thinks if we provide our customers with Birkins they’d do their food shopping at Fenton’s.”

“Is that really a Birkin?” Molly turned red. “I’ve only seen them on a reality show. I don’t watch TV but my roommate watches Hulu on her computer. Aren’t those like the price of a small house?”

“Not a house in San Francisco,” Alexis said dismissively. “What is she doing here?”

“Molly had something she wanted to tell me. We’ve been chatting, we have a lot in common,” Cassie replied calmly.

“I need to talk to you, upstairs.” Alexis pulled Cassie up.

“I have to go,” Cassie said to Molly. “Thanks for the advice, you’ve been very helpful.”

“Do you want my phone number, in case I have other ideas? Maybe you could sell my pumpkin muffins,” Molly said hopefully.

“Not right now.” Cassie smiled. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

*   *   *

“What were you doing with the girl who fucked your husband?” Alexis demanded when they were on the escalator. “And why aren’t you at the Mark Hopkins servicing Aidan’s morning boner?”

Cassie suddenly felt dizzy. Black spots danced before her eyes. “I need to sit down,” she said, gripping the side of the escalator. “Let’s go to my mother’s office.”

“Have I missed something?” Alexis demanded, closing the door to Diana’s office. “You don’t talk to the girl who threw a grenade into your marriage when you’re trying to make it work with Aidan.”

“I’m divorcing Aidan.” Cassie sat on the cream-colored sofa.

“I thought you had a night of fireworks and champagne.”

“Apparently Aidan’s had a lot of nights of fireworks, just not with me. He and Molly have been having an affair since January. He was going to take her to Italy but at the last minute he took his TA instead; a pretty blonde with hair like a Barbie doll.” Cassie felt her temples start to throb. “He cut his trip short because the TA walked out on him when she saw a text from me. She didn’t know he was married. Molly didn’t know either.”

Cassie and Alexis sat silently. Neither knew what to say next. Cassie remembered when her father died and friends arrived to pay their respects. Her mother’s living room was full of women spooning egg salad onto white china. Cassie sipped pink lemonade, feeling invisible. No one knew what to say to a little girl who lost her daddy.

“I’m impressed,” Alexis said finally. She sat at Diana’s desk, running her fingers over the pearl letter opener. “I didn’t think Aidan was such a good liar. He’s got one hell of a poker face.”

“Do you think he’s been screwing around for ten years?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s over. When are you going to tell him?”

“I can’t face him.”

“You have to tell him,” Alexis insisted. “You’ve been bleeding long enough. You have to get him out of your life.”

“Later.” Cassie shrugged. “I can’t see him right now.”

“I have an idea.” Alexis’s eyes sparkled. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

*   *   *

Cassie closed her eyes. The pain was like a balloon; when she tried to embrace it, it formed a different shape and escaped her grasp. She had to think about something else. She picked up Alexis’s Birkin and admired the platinum hardware. She ran her fingers over the crocodile skin and snapped it open and shut. She held it against her thigh, studying her reflection in the mirror. She thought about what Molly said about designing a shopping bag women would fight over.

“Mission accomplished.” Alexis walked into the office. She wore a navy sleeveless dress with a wide belt and Jimmy Choo platform heels. Her hair was piled into an effortless bun and secured with a chopstick. A Tiffany charm bracelet tinkled at her wrist and she wore a strand of freshwater pearls around her neck.

“What did you do?”

“I sent Aidan a Fenton’s box of lingerie: thongs, padded bras, a selection of garter belts, lace panties, and teddies. I included a note from you: ‘These might be useful in your future conquests.’ I signed it ‘Cassie Fenton.’ I think he’ll get the picture.”

“You didn’t.” Cassie’s mouth hung open.

“I wanted to add something to the box like a dead chicken, but I resisted the temptation.” Alexis started laughing. “You have to forget him. Do you want to go out and get drunk? We can play hooky and spend the afternoon at PlumpJack’s. Remember when we’d skip out of last period, change into regular clothes, and see if we’d get carded?”

“I did that once.” Cassie cringed. “And I was so terrified we’d get caught I didn’t touch my drink.”

“That’s why you have me riding shotgun,” Alexis replied. “We have to do something to get your mind off that prick.”

“I have an idea to increase sales at the emporium.”

“We can’t hand out Birkins, or Birkin knockoffs.” Alexis shook her head.

“What if we had someone design a bag that was so gorgeous women had to have one? It would have to be big like your Birkin so it could hold groceries, and really original, so women lusted after it. We’d give it an exotic name and make it available only with purchase.”

Alexis tapped the letter opener on the desk. She picked up her iPhone and flipped through her photos. “The Princess,” she said, looking at Cassie.

“What did you say?”

“We’ll call it the Princess and make the first one for Princess Giselle. I can take photos of her carrying it everywhere, stuffed with loaves of bread and broccoli flowers and heads of lettuce.”

“The Princess,” Cassie repeated. “Bright red, with a clasp shaped liked a tiara. We’ll use a cool recyclable fabric and we’ll ask Gregory to hand paint each bag with some fantastic design. The bags will be instantly recognizable all over the city.” Cassie jumped up, pacing around the room.

“A mini mural on each bag!” Alexis said. “They’ll be utterly unique, walking works of art. We just need to find a local supplier.”

“Axel! He knows everyone.” Cassie fished through her purse for her phone. “I’ll call him right now.” Cassie stood by the window, waiting for Axel to answer. She watched tourists on Union Square take photos of Gucci and Burberry. She saw squirrels hop across the grass scavenging acorns.

Axel answered the phone. “Cassie, darling, lovely to hear your voice. I’m creating a spectacular arrangement for Princess Giselle’s dinner party. Roses, orchids, tulips, and clouds of baby’s breath. That woman knows how to spend money.”

“I need your help. Sales at the emporium have been slow. We think women might be embarrassed to walk onto Union Square carrying a grocery shopping bag.” Cassie tapped her fingers on the glass. “We need someone to make a bag that is so original, so sexy, women can’t live without it. We’re going to call it ‘The Princess’ and it will be available only with purchase.”

“I love it,” Axel cooed. “Très Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

“Do you know anyone that can make them fast? We have an idea for the design and the fabric.”

“Let me think,” Axel demurred. “I have a friend, Thom Paik, in the Sunset. He can whip up a batch quickly.”

Cassie hesitated. “I don’t want them made in a sweatshop.”

“Do you think I’d send you to someone who employs twelve-year-old girls?” Axel huffed. “I’ll call him and tell him you’re coming. He’ll take care of you.”

“That would be fantastic.” Cassie’s eyes sparkled. “How can I thank you?”

“I heard Vanessa and Billy are attending Giselle’s dinner party. If you can convince Vanessa to use me instead of Stanlee Gatti for her florals, I’ll be your slave.”

“Done.” Cassie grabbed a pen. “What’s his address?”